


Soldier without his Detective

by MutedSilence



Series: The Soldier and his Detective [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BAMF John, Background Case, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Homophobic Language, Jealous Sherlock, Jealousy, John Watson in Afghanistan, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Roulette, M/M, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Phone Calls & Telephones, Protective Greg, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Texting, email, mystrade, papa lestrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27417886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MutedSilence/pseuds/MutedSilence
Summary: John and Sherlock had a great week together. Now reality has set in and John has gone back to war. Leaving Sherlock behind.This is a follow on to my first fic, Soldier and his Detective. This one will mostly be through text and phone calls.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: The Soldier and his Detective [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2003191
Comments: 66
Kudos: 91





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If there is anything amiss, let me know. I saw a video on how obscure British slang is, as an Englishman, something I never realised. If you don't understand something, Please let me know so I can make notes of it for future chapters.

* * *

* * *

_Sherlock_

**John**

* * *

* * *

_I miss you._

_I know, you won't get this yet._

_I really, really miss you._

_Flat is empty without you now._

* * *

**I miss you 2. Just off plane.**

**Bet i miss you more.**

_Not likely._

**Oh really??**

_I cried…_

**I managed to hold on until i was in the air**

_I broke down on Mycroft's lap._

_They came home with me. They're still here. They think I'll do something stupid._

_John?_

* * *

**Sorry, luv, pretty busy arleady**

***already**

_That's okay._

_I love you._

  
  


* * *

**I love you too <3 **

* * *

It had been two weeks. Sherlock had hardly heard from John. _You knew this would happen_ . He's hardly left the bed. Curling into the pillows that once held John's head. _Has it only been two weeks?_ Their messages would be left with large gaps between them. John was four and a half hours ahead of Sherlock. 

Lestrade had been giving Sherlock more and more cases. He used to only get one when he was being insufferable. Turns out he had the wrong methods. If Sherlock spent all his time alone in bed, not moving, he would be given any and every case. Lestrade would try and talk to him, but it wasn't the same. Nothing was anymore. _Maybe Mycroft was right._

* * *

Sherlock heard his phone vibrating on his nightstand. **_Lestrade_ ** is spread across the screen. He burrowed further into his blankets, letting it ring off. It went again, and again. Then a text, _jeez he just doesn't know when to quit_. He leans across to pick it up. 

**_< 3<3 John <3<3_ **

**** **Go out. your brother is calling my base about you. Take a case. Just dont meet another man whiel getting your arse handed to you ;p**

**I love you. Please take care of yourself, for me.**

_Should have known Mycroft would get his big nose in the way. I just miss you more than I thought I would._

_I love you too, John. You need to take care, too, you're the one in a warzone after all <3 _

Sherlock sits up, unwrapping from his blankets as the first name lights up his phone again, 

"Sherlock?"

"What do you want?" His voice had hardly been used and it was showing.

"I've got a case. It's a seven, at least. Locked room murder." Lestrade's voice held hope. That much was evident. 

"Fine. Pick me up." With that he hung up and took a deep breath. His legs swung off the bed and he tried to find clothes. 

* * *

Lestrade had shown up to find Sherlock sat on the edge of bed. Just, staring. He helped him get ready and guided him to the car waiting. They had rode in silence to the scene. _How the hell can he help Sherlock?_

Once they arrived, it was like something came over Sherlock. He no longer looked empty. His gaze focused for the first time since John left. He strode through to the body, his feet darting around almost as fast as his eyes moved. 

Lestrade hadn't told the team about John. That's Sherlock's business, if he wants them to know, he'll say. They stand around the body. Lestrade tries to stop the bounding Sherlock long enough to hand him gloves. He can feel everyone watching them from the sidelines. Sherlock hasn't joined them in many cases. Lestrade only brings him in for the really tough ones. 

To everyone else, Sherlock looks the same as he always does. But, Lestrade knows him. He helped him through the drugs and the boredom. They met in a back alley, Sherlock - for lack of a better word - was off his tits. Lestrade had found him on the floor, shivering. He began to search the young man. All that he had was a plastic bag in his pocket. Lestrade sat next to the man and looked through the bag. All the drugs were gone, discarded needles around them. The bag had a notebook. Small, black, it was beaten and had an elastic band around it holding a pencil. He opens the notebook. It looks like a diary of sorts. Filled with dates and lists of drugs and dosages. He moves through it to the day's date. The words mixed and scribbled over, _he'd been on a bender_. He carried on flicking through. At the front was a name and number. The handwriting was different, vastly so. Lestrade called the number and within minutes a man in suit was by his side. Lestrade had refused to leave. He went home with the men and made a silent vow to save that young man from himself. 

It was a vow he intended to keep. He kept tabs on the man, showing up unannounced. This grew into something else, Lestrade would show up just to see the mysterious brother. Bringing cold cases for the younger and dinner for the elder. Sherlock got clean, Mycroft began to melt. Together they helped Sherlock find a flat and stay off the drugs. But, he still had bad days. Lestrade had seen them. He had dealt with the rage and tantrums. The highs and lows. He was there before and he'd be damned if he wasn't this time. 

The deductions came flying. Lestrade's pen worked as fast as it could to catch it all. Sherlock was twirling around and pointing as his words bombarded Lestrade. Then he stopped. Sherlock abruptly turned to face Lestrade and gave what he suspected, to be the first smile in almost three weeks. A smile that was gladly reciprocated. He took the young detective back to his office to fill out paperwork, leaving his team to clean up. It won't be the same, they both know that, but this shows they can work through it. 


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey, Sherlock. Can you hear me?"

"JOHN!"

"How are you holding up?"

"I miss you so much. So, so much." His voice had cracked at this. A pang shooting through his chest. 

"I know, love. I miss you too. Have you been out on cases? I told Greg to give you some."

"Yeah, yeah," The excitement was clear in his voice as he spoke. "There was a locked room murder! It was amazing! The knife was no wear in sight, so obviously the killer must have taken it. The door was locked from the inside. The victim was an abuser, the killer was only a few years younger than me! The daughter killed the dad! I wish you could have been there."

John was laughing on the other end of the call, "Only my boyfriend would find a murder  _ that _ exciting. I really wish I could have seen you in action. When I come home, I'll join you."

They're quiet for a few moments, Sherlock can hear the men milling around John. He moves to make tea and says, "So, what's it like there?"

"It is so busy. It's not normally, but there was an attack nearby just before I arrived. They were swamped. Turns out I came back at the right time. Although, I will admit, the nurses have said that I'm more irritable now. Keep asking what happened on my leave. I haven't told them about you yet. Some of them can get a bit… weird. I will tell them, just when the time is right." 

"It's okay John, they don't need to know. Are you alright though? It wasn't too close was it?"

"Sherlock, calm down. I'm safe. How are --" He was cut off by some commotion, a soldier calling for him, "Listen, I've got to run. More wounded arriving. I love you, stay brilliant."

"I love you too, John, stay alive."

The line went dead and Sherlock held his phone to his chest. 

* * *

John had been rushing around for the past month.  _ Has it only been a month? _ There had been attacks at a nearby village. They were rushed off their feet helping all the wounded civilians. Any spare time John got, was spent texting Sherlock. Maybe a call if it wasn't too loud. 

**Hey.**

_ Hey, you alright? _

John marvelled at how quickly Sherlock replied. 

**Yeah I'm fine. Got some down time atm. How have you been??**

_ Surprisingly, okay. Been working cases. Certainly makes the time flow faster.  _

__ _ Lestrade has been insufferable.  _

__ **He's only trying to help keep you occupied. I did ask**

_ You, John Watson, amaze me sometimes.  _

"What you smilin' at cap'?" A hand slaps down on his shoulder. John turned to look into the face of Bill Murray. Bill was a nurse that had joined the army around the same time as John. They went back years. He turns to face Bill as he turns his phone off. "Nothing much. Just a text." Bill sat up straight in his chair. Trying to look at the phone, "Who could you be talkin' to, eh?" 

"No offence Bill, but you can't keep your mouth shut for toffee." Bill gave an over exaggerated, mock offended expression. His hand on his chest as he let out a large gasp. "Oh, don't give me that. Known you donkeys." Bill's face softened slightly and he leant in closer, dropping his voice. "You've met someone. Go on. Who's she? Who's the tart you got?"

Bill leant even more forward, as if about to take the phone. John held it tighter in his hands and moved it away slightly. It wasn't that he was ashamed. If anything, he would scream it from the rooftops.  _ Sherlock is mine, and I, his.  _ The issue is that he doesn't know how they'll react. It's illegal to be queer in Afghanistan, so if it becomes common knowledge, how will those he help react? 

"They are not a tart. Like I said, you can't keep mum. I'm not telling you about them." A flicker of hurt passed over Bill's face. The phone in his hand vibrated again. He could be called upon at any moment, he needed to take the chance to talk to Sherlock. Both of them looked at the phone in his hands. John shifted and pointed towards Bill, "You keep schtum, or I'll suture your lips shut." With a brisk nod from Bill, John looked around to see how many were near them, then raised his phone. 

_ Assume you're busy again. I love you. Talk to you later <3 _

Bill was reading over his shoulder. John could practically feel the shock flowing from him. "His name is Sherlock. I love him. I really, really do."

**You see, that's where you're wrong. It's you that amazes me. You're brilliant. Proper genius. I love you too <3**

**How has Greg been? and Mycroft? I tell them to keep you busy but they never text back**

__ _ Really, John? Must we talk of them?  _

__ _ They show up every now and then. My money is more controlled now. Mycroft has gone back to paying my bills for me instead of letting me pay them. They're worried, I know. But they needn't be. I have you now.  _

**I really want to unpack all of that but ive got a nurse breathing down my neck**

_ Oh, you're busy. It's fine. I'll leave you to it.  _

**** **Sherlock.**

__ _ Yes? _

**I told him. I officially came out to Bill, a nurse i've known years. He's a bit… Yeah.**

_ You did?  _

__ _ JOHN! That is brilliant! I'm so happy for you, I could, well… kiss you. I'll just have to double my efforts when you return home.  _

John began to chuckle slightly at that. A solitary tear travelling down his cheek. He looks over at Bill, who seems to have finally closed his mouth. A fond smile in its place. "Well done mate. I wouldn't have put you as a fag."

John bristled, "And what makes you think that? Hmm? Fag is not a word you use. That is an offensive, derogatory term used in place of gay. I am not gay. I just have fallen in love with a brilliant, amazing person that just so happens to have a dick." Bill moved back as if worried John would hit him. His cheery disposition destroyed as he seemed to sober. His hands came up in a sign of peace. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. Bad thing to Josh about I guess. I am happy for you. Anyway, we best be heading back." 

John watched him stand, feeling slightly stupid.  _ Need to apologise, a little too hot headed. _ He pulled out his phone again, 

**He was shocked to say the least. And I intend to take you up on that offer. I have to head back. I love you <3**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John and Bill's exchange is actually akin to when my friend found out. I am basing Bill on that friend.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

* * *

_ Sherlock _

**John**

* * *

* * *

_ I'm sending you a care package.  _

_ Need anything in particular?  _

**A care package?**

**I don't know really, can you fit?**

_ Mycroft will never allow that. I would certainly try to fit though.  _

**I might need socks. snacks.**

**Ooooooh ill tell you what. A couple tea bags? Haven't had a decent cuppa since you made it.**

**If thats not too much**

_ Why on Earth would that be too much? I was prepared to send myself. And anyway, my brother is paying.  _

**Oh well in that case, I'll take a pack of biscuits too ;p**

**Wait, you didn't steal his card again did you?**

_ John, how could you think so low of me? I just mentioned to Lestrade how I was saving what little money I had to send you something. He did the rest.  _

**You manipulative bastard. I fucking love you.**

_ I love you too <3 _

* * *

"Hiya, Sherlock." Lestrade had been visiting Sherlock every so often. He usually brought a case with him as an excuse. Although, they both knew the reason he was actually there. There were no active cases he could hand out so he was bringing some of his cold cases to keep the mad genius occupied. Frankly, he was growing a little concerned. Sherlock had begun to be more reserved. John had been away for just over a month. He knew it was driving Sherlock crazy. He's never seen the man like this. 

Sherlock was sitting in his chair, reading. He looked up as Greg stepped into the room, the book still held aloft. Greg dumped the envelope onto the coffee table and moved to the kettle. Sherlock's eyes drifting back to his book. Greg begins opening cupboards, looking for the tea bags. "Ran out." The words came out in a long drawl.  _ Ran out? Seriously? _

He closes the doors and steps into the front room. "Have you not been shopping? Mycroft gave you this week's money." Sherlock gave a long exaggerated sigh. The type he tends to reserve for when Greg is being particularly dull, according to him. Greg shifts on his feet, hands raising to rest on his hips. Sherlock begins to place the book down, moving slow. "I'm saving up." 

The longer Greg has been there, the less he understands. He moves to sit in front of Sherlock. As he walks to the front of the red armchair, he sees Sherlock's head snap up. His leg dropping from his knee as he moves to stop Greg. Looking at the wide eyes of the young man, Greg looks back towards the chair, a wave of understanding flooding him. He pulls over a wooden chair to sit near the man. He gives a slight nod towards Sherlock as he sits, watching as he begins to relax again. He can see the mental scolding Sherlock is giving himself at his reaction. 

"What are you saving up for?" Greg is directing his gaze at Sherlock, trying to catch his eye. "Sherlock?" In all the time they have known each other, Greg has never seen him like this. In his short look around the kitchen, he saw just how bare they had become. Mycroft had been in control of Sherlock's money for a while now. He would send over enough for essentials, rent, and some extra. It was so that the money wouldn't be for anything…  _ recreational. _ It had been the way since Greg had found him. John had begun to send over some of his money too. All of this was, of course, under Mycroft's control. When a danger night arose, Sherlock's money would lower. If it got really bad, Mycroft wouldn't send any. He would pay all Sherlock's bills without the money crossing him. Greg had been trying to lift this. Even he thought Mycroft could be a little too controlling. 

"I want to send John care packages," His gaze was still wandering. "Just little things to make him feel at home. I was looking it up, postage will be about ten pounds. I thought I could send a couple. You know? The stuff we don't think of. Maybe a gift or two. I don't know." He gave a shrug as he began to trail off. Greg had never seen him so small and insecure. His heart lurched with each word that passed his lips. Sherlock shifted, Greg let out a sigh and stood. He moved towards the door and picked up his discarded coat. He then grabbed Sherlock's and threw it over the man. 

Sherlock looked up after uncovering himself, his expression lost. "Move it, come on." Greg said as he turned to leave the flat. Sherlock slowly stood, curiosity spiked, he followed. He moved hesitantly behind Greg as he made his way to his car. They climbed in. 

* * *

"What are we doing here?" They had pulled up at the nearby Asda. Greg parked and strolled towards the food entrance, leaving Sherlock to trail behind. Greg motions towards the small trolleys, Sherlock collects one before following in tandem in the store. "Well? What do you want to send to John? Ask him if he needs anything first then you can work from there." With that, he takes the trolley and throws some bread at the bottom. Sherlock looks Greg over and sends a text to John. 

They make their way through the isles, Greg picking things up and tossing them in the trolley, comparing the products and prices. "Um, he said, socks and snacks. I guess we head to George before paying?" Greg gave a smile and a stiff nod as he picked up two blocks of near identical cheese. He looks up to the sound of Sherlock's phone making a sound and a laugh escaping his lips. "And, uh, tea if it's not too much." He is looking at his phone with a reserved smile and a spark in his eye, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing the side. 

Greg breaks through to Sherlock by placing the cheese in the trolley and clearing his throat. "Too much? Proper British bloke, your fella. It's alright Mycroft can pay, you'll be fine." He lets out a chuckle and begins to make his way to the tea. Sherlock's fingers tapping as he follows close behind. 

Greg takes his time. Walking throughout the shop, collecting things to send as well as a full shop for the stubborn man. After paying, he takes Sherlock home and joins him for a well earned cuppa. 


	4. Chapter 4

A small package had arrived at base. Just a plain cardboard box. It was only about two kilograms. Nothing much could be said about it. Just a boring box that happened to make John's heart clench. The unassuming parcel had been placed in his barracks. John's roommate was Bill as well as another soldier, Sami. They had all returned from their day and were preparing for bed. John sits on his bed and picks up the parcel. His thumb rubbing against the return address. 

Sami pipes up, "Oi, what's that? Got any scran in there?" John looks up to see both Bill and Sami looking at him with curiosity. Sami moves to dress, they had become decent friends, but John still wasn't sure on how he would react to Sherlock. "Din't know you had Civi that cared about you, cap." He began to chuckle at this. Bill made eye contact with John before he gave a stiff nod and moved on. John watched on as Bill moved away, then turned to the eagerly awaiting Sami. 

"Yeah, yeah, I… uh… met someone," He clears his throat and swallows around the lump that had formed. "Only known them a week, practically moved in after the first day." John was nervous. Sami was pretty religious. John's parents were also religious. He knew how it could influence people's opinions. When his father had walked in on him with another boy, it hadn't gone well. He had no idea how Sami would react. _Does he share his father's views?_

John sits back on his bed, parcel in hand. He slowly begins to unwrap the brown paper. Both the men watched him as he lifted the lid. A tear rolled down John's cheek and a laugh pushed through his chest. Taped carefully to the lid was a picture. A selfie John had taken of them. While on a walk through the park, John decided to take pictures of the two of them. In the picture, John had one hand extended to hold the phone and another hand on Sherlock's lapel. Their lips crashed together. Sherlock's hands holding John, one behind his neck and the other out of frame, on his hip. The picture was askew, not even all of Sherlock's hair was in the picture. But it was perfect. 

He takes the picture off the lid. His gaze was unwavering. He didn't realise just how much he missed the mad man. "I saved them. They were being beaten up in an alley." He looks up to each of the men individually, gives a short nod and carries on, "I was just walking by. I heard something and looked down. It was dark, but… I knew they needed help and I didn't think," He handed the picture over to Sami before continuing. "His name is Sherlock. Insane. I'll tell ya. It was a killer. The other guy in the alley, he was tormenting him. Sherlock, that is. Making fun of a killer. I had to save him then he had the gall to pull out handcuffs," John is becoming more enthusiastic as he speaks, Sami and Bill becoming engrossed in his story. "Wait, no, not like that. I mean yeah he did pull out handcuffs -- but he arrested the killer. Not even a copper. Just some guy that was bored. He is --" His words die off. He looks towards the men. 

Sami has a smile across his face. "You two look great together. Now, about the scran?" John laughs, a deep rumble coming from his stomach. _Why was he worried?_ They hand him the picture back. John places it on a small bedside table and lifts the parcel back up. Everything is wrapped in some sort of fabric. He pulls at it so that only the fabric comes out. It unfolds as he lifts it. A thin pair of pajama bottoms. John recognises them, Sherlock had worn them when John claimed his joggers. He balled them up and could smell Sherlock on them. If he didn't have an audience he probably would have pressed them against his face. He placed them to the side and pulled out a small travel kettle. _That man!_ He pulls out a small box of Tetley that was next to the kettle. At the bottom of the box was a packet of biscuits, pot noodle, and some small snacks and chocolates. As he pulled them out to show the other men, he saw that they were hiding more things underneath. Some loose photographs, laying at the bottom. 

He began to pull them out one at a time. He remembers taking most of these. There was an image of Greg and Mycroft. _Must have been taken by Sherlock._ He passes it over to the awaiting men. The next one, Sherlock stood making tea, bare arsed, facing away from the camera. _John had taken this - Sherlock wanted to surprise him with tea in bed, thinking John was asleep._ Bill reached forward for it as John went to place it away. He took it and him and Sami began giggling like school boys. The next one had John in the centre frame. A lapful of Sherlock as he sat in the red armchair. _Greg took this - they fell asleep and he woke them. Didn't even know he took a picture._ There were three more images, each of them were selfies John had taken of the two of them. 

He passes them all over and moves to make a decent cuppa. Finding the scattered cups to make the others a drink each. He changes into his tattered top, and the bottoms Sherlock had sent. 


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock was laid on the sofa. The coffee table was littered with mugs of tea and blueberry muffins. His hand was hanging off the sofa. Held loosely in his hand was a small bottle of Lynx aftershave. Taking a deep breath, Sherlock lifted his hand above his head and sprayed the cologne. His hand falling back down as if the bottle was being pulled to the floor. He took another deep breath. He had hardly moved in two days. Only getting up to make another cup of tea before retreating back to the sofa. He would send a text to Mrs Hudson every so often so she could get him another muffin. Walking down stairs was too much effort. She had even begun making him a batch. 

He brought the aftershave above his head again. His movements had become automatic. He takes another deep breath. _More muffins_. He listens. Mrs Hudson should be bringing the fresh batch she promised. He'll get her to make another tea. His phone began to ring from beneath the depths of mugs and cakes. He reaches to find it, letting the bottle drop from his fingers. His heart stutters. 

**< 3<3 John <3<3 **

"John!" 

"Hey, 'Lock. How have you been?" 

"I'm great. Keeping busy. Hardly stopped really."

"That's great! Listen, I got your care package --" Sherlock cut him off, hardly able to contain his excitement at hearing John's voice. 

"Did you like it? Lestrade took me to Asda and helped me find what you would like. What about the pictures? Were they alright? The tea was the right one, yes? It's the brand I use and you said--" 

"Sherlock," He let out a laugh. _That laugh is a drug._ "it's all fine. The pictures were great. The tea! My god! You know what I did? After opening the box, I made a cuppa and changed into the bottoms you sent. They smell like you." 

"I thought you'd be missing me and maybe, uh, being able to smell me would help."

"It does. It really does."

"I'm glad you liked the box John. Although, I did forget your socks. They couldn't fit."

"That's fine. I'd rather a kettle than a pair of socks."

"I didn't know if you had a kettle nearby so I thought on the safe side." 

"It was brilliant." They are quiet for a while, just listening to the other breathe. Sherlock finally feels at home. 

Sherlock can hear someone talking to John in the background. 

"Yes, I'm talking to Sherlock. What? No…. No… I said no! I am your superior. Ugh, fine I'll ask. Hey, uh… Sherlock?"

"You have to go?" He tries to keep the disappointment from his voice, but even he knows he failed. 

"No, no. It's just, my roommates are being arses and want me to put you on speaker. They saw our pictures. Apparently, sharing my tea with them wasn't enough, I have to share my boyfriend now." It was clear the last part was directed at the others. Sherlock began to giggle. 

"I don't mind," He heard a huff from John and movement as he put the phone down. It was followed by some men shouting greetings down the phone. Sherlock laughed before he carried on, "Hello, I'm not sharing him by the way."

The men on the other side chuckle. 

"So, Sherlock, you're in London right? How is it?" 

"Um. Pretty normal I guess. I mean, there's… uh, well. It's raining at the moment. Busy. There were some drunk teens outside earlier. Just, London, really." 

"Of course it's raining. I miss the rain." 

They all go quiet again. 

"Hey, Sherlock, I get that it must be hard. You know? Us having him here. I just want you to know, we'll keep him safe. Promise. Enjoy the rain for us though." 

"Thank you. And I'm not going out there, it's pissing it down and I've settled nicely with a cuppa on the sofa," He can hear them laughing again. He swallows back a tear and says, "John?"

"Yeah, I'm here." 

"Take me off speaker. Great to speak to you guys." He hears the rustle as the phone is lifted again. The protests of the men were cut off by John's voice. 

"Hey you, are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah fine. I love you. I just miss you is all. Mrs Hudson has been asking about you. Checking you're safe."

"Well, tell her I'm fine. Although, I have a feeling it's not really her that's asking. 'Lock, I'm fine, okay? You'd be the first to know if anything did happen. Not that it will. You heard Sami. He promised. I love you too. I need to go alright? Early morning. Take care of yourself, please. I love you."

"I love you, John." The line goes dead. He throws the phone back on the table and picks up the cologne, giving it another spray. 

Mrs Hudson walked into the room. She had a tray of muffins for the young man. She didn't understand his sudden obsession with the tea, muffins, and cologne, but she could tell he needed it. She made the mistake of trying to clean the previous day. Now, she just added to the table. She walked through to make him another cup of tea, maybe he'll drink this one. As the water boiled, she moved the new and old muffins to the floor next to the table. Sherlock looked towards her as she did so, and sprayed again. 

He had run out of mugs. He had begun raiding hers, now she only had one left. Looking through all the cupboards she pulled out a saucepot. Placing four tea bags in it, she began to make him a pot of tea in the only thing she could. Not like he would drink it anyway. She placed it on the table next to him and left him alone. As soon as she had made it back to her own kitchen, she pulled out her phone and looked for a scrap of paper. It was there somewhere. A phone number she never thought she'd need. After two rings, Mycroft Holmes answered. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not one for emails, but I had to include some. Hope you like it.

To:  DrJohnHWatson_95@gmail.com

From:  SHolmes_87@gmail.com

_ John!  _

_ I got your email address from Harry. She told me to tell you, "I'm fine." She didn't say much else, but I can see she's having relationship trouble. I was worried she would try and talk to me about it. I haven't the foggiest what I would do if she had.  _

_ Mycroft is being insufferable, nothing new I assure you. Lestrade is fine as well. He's been coming over less often now. He still shows up when he pleases. He also looks through my things. He thinks I don't know. I'm just humouring him. He wants you to know that he will be taking you for a pint when you return. He's trying to get me to the pub. Not really my thing.  _

_ I'm not fond of emails if I'm honest. I have no idea what you want to know. I can give my best predictions, but you're different. John, you exceed my expectations. I can't for the life of me, guess how you will react, or what points you'll fixate on.  _

_ I haven't really been up to much. Lestrade has been giving me cases. Mainly cold. Mycroft even gave me a case. Too much legwork according to him. I was bored and created a website. I'll be posting my experiments. I've even created a business email so that I can take private cases. I haven't had one yet, but it's still early days.  _

_ One of my experiments involves documenting different types of tobacco ash. That was a bad time for one of Lestrade's surprise visits. I had over 200 types of cigars/cigarettes lined up for testing. I had finished categorising the ash of 156 when he showed up. He went mental. Called Mycroft. He was in a meeting at the time. I then spent ages listening to them shout at me. Mrs Hudson came up to check everything was alright. When she saw the mess, I had her shout at me too. To make matters worse they were shouting and cleaning. They cleared all my ash and took all the cigars/cigarettes I had in wait. What a waste of an experiment. Took me ages to get them all.  _

_ I miss you. A lot. I've never experienced this before. Never even had a relationship if I'm honest. Did you know that you smell like tea, blueberry muffins, your cologne, and a very faint smell of gunpowder? There's also the underlying smell that's just… you. Never thought about how people smell before. I make an extra cup of tea and buy a muffin when I miss you, but it's not the same.  _

_ I might talk to Mycroft. Get him to bring you home for Christmas. No promises. It is a while away. It would be nice. I'd love to find out about your traditions. I had always adored Christmas, I'd love to spend it with you.  _

_ I love you, I miss you, stay safe, come home to me.  _

_ Love,  _

_ Sherlock _

* * *

To:  SHolmes_87@gmail.com

From:  DrJohnHWatson_95@gmail.com

_ Sherlock, I know you are worried about me. I get it. Although, you must remember, we met while you had a killer over you. An actual killer. I'm worried for you to, but we can't dwell on that. We can't fixate on if the other is hurt. It will drive us crazy. I trust that you can take care of yourself. I trust that if you are in danger, someone will be there to help you. Now, it's your turn. Trust me. Trust that I will come home. Trust that if I am in danger, I will have help. Both our jobs are dangerous. That will not stop us though. We will both stay safe.  _

_ Christmas? Wow. I don't have any traditions. Our family wasn't one for holidays. I guess we did have one. My da used to spend it down the pub. When she was older, Harry joined. To be honest, not my cup of tea. Perhaps we can make our own? We could even have a christmas party. Not on the day of course, I'd much rather spend that with just you. We could get mistletoe. Maybe a few around the flat. Oh, there's an idea. I'll hide one, when you stand under it, I'll kiss you, then you can find it a new home. My friends would marvel at Santa. Now, I know he's not real, but maybe I can get you a stocking. I always did find them fascinating. They sing here. Anything from classic carols to Mariah Carey.  _

_ As your doctor - seriously? That many cigars??? Not good for your health and I'm glad they took it all away.  _

_ As your boyfriend - maybe only experiment on one type every few days. It would hardly do for you to be bored. I'm not sure what you could possibly need that many types for, but if it keeps you happy.  _

_ I didn't know I smelt like that. Blueberry muffins? Where did that come from? Tea, I can understand, it's my go to drink. But blueberry muffins? I don't even eat them that often. The cologne makes sense too. I can't figure out the muffins though. I even asked Bill, "Do I smell like blueberry muffins?" Apparently so. They thought I had some hidden away. I don't by the way. They keep giving me the side eye. They actually think I'm hiding food from them.  _

_ I miss you too. The guys here seem to notice. They keep asking me about you. There's not really that many stories. Our time was just too short. When I get home, I am taking you on as many dates as the day will allow. How many different activities can you even fit in a day? However, spending all day, everyday in bed with you sounds pretty good too.  _

_ And hey, don't torment your brother too much. If I can't be given leave, we might need him.  _

_ I love you. I miss you. I can't wait to hold you again. Don't do anything stupid.  _

_ Love,  _

_ John xx _

* * *

Sherlock had received a small parcel. Hand delivered by Mycroft himself. He took one look at the parcel, deductions spewing. All evidence pointing to John. The box was the same one he had sent. He took the box and held it. His eyes fixed on the parcel in his hands. 

In the distance, Mycroft moves to make tea. Sherlock removes the wrapping. The sound from the kitchen helped to keep him grounded. Inside was a tattered shirt. The smell overwhelming his senses.  _ John, John, John, John. _

John's grey top. The grey top he wore to bed. He pulled it out of the box. Lifting it to his nose to soak in the scent he's missed so much. He placed it on his lap and began to undo his shirt buttons. Throwing his shirt on the floor to his left. He immediately replaced it with the top. Underneath was a picture and a solitary cigar. A picture of John in his uniform. It was small and old. The type that would have been in his files. His brother walks over with the tea he had made. Pulling out the wooden chair, he placed the tea on the table. He picked up his brother's shirt as Sherlock reached for his wallet. The photo was carefully placed in the wallet for safe keeping. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The crossed out sentences are messages John was going to send to Sherlock, but scrapped before he sent them. Wasn't sure if that was clear.  
> Been very distracted today so put on Sherlock. That didn't help. I only had 2 paragraphs by the time i was watching Sherlock die.  
> Anyway, Hope you like this chapter.

~~ Sherlock. I didn't get leave ~~

~~ Sherlock, I love you, But I can't come home ~~

~~ My leave was turned down ~~

~~ We can't spend christmas together. ~~

~~ Please forgive me ~~

~~ I love you, but  ~~

~~ I don't know how to tell you this ~~

~~ I'm sorry Sherlock ~~

~~ Listen, I didn't get leave ~~

~~ I miss you. I can't come home.  ~~

~~ I need you. But. They need me.  ~~

~~ Why is it so fucking hard ~~

~~ I want to hold you ~~

~~ I know you'll cry when you find out ~~

~~ I will fix it ~~

* * *

John was making his rounds when the news came in. He had a visitor. Someone was waiting for him in his office. Although, he wasn't told it was urgent. So, John carried on with his duties. Unhurried. His request for leave had been turned down. John had been short with everyone the past few days. 'Sulking' as Bill had graciously put it. If anything that had just brought John down further. He had put in a request for a few days. Just a break. Anything. Not even a fixed date, just anything. Christmas was just a day, the festivities could be moved. As a sign of rebellion he was spending longer on his rounds. It's pretty difficult to be disobedient in the army. He ended up spending less time on paperwork as a result, yet still getting everything done on time. 

With a sour face he made his way to his office. Pushing it as far as he could without actually being late. He was greeted by soldiers as he passed. He paid them no mind. Moving into his office. Pushing open the door, he stood at attention when he saw a figure at the window. After a second he immediately sagged.  _ Oh for -  _

Stood by his desk was none other than Mycroft Holmes. John blew out a large breath. He really wasn't in the mood for whatever he had in store. "What do you want, Mycroft?" The man looks up towards John. A reptilian smirk on his face. He gave a tilt of his head as he said, "Dr Watson. Pleasure as always. You did not receive leave," It wasn't a question. That much was obvious. John's mood plummets deeper. A sick feeling in his stomach. He knows that Mycroft doesn't like him. It's not like he tried to hide it. He carries on, "You have not told my brother yet. Why?" His voice had an edge to it. Something John had not heard in the limited time he had known him. 

"Because." John ran a hand through his hair then brought it to run down his face. "Because, as much as you may not like it… I love him. If there was a chance - anything. Anyway, I could come home… I didn't want to cause him unnecessary pain if I could fix it. I tried." His hand was still covering his face. His voice low as he tried to keep it level. Trying to keep his composure. Not letting himself show his hand, well, at least he's trying. It's not working out too well. 

His eyes still screwed shut, he hears movement. A shuffling from ahead of him. His eyes remain shut. He's not quite ready to look at Mycroft. He can hear the creak of a chair, followed by a scrape as it's pushed away. Feet shuffling along the floor - coming to rest in front of him. His eyes still closed and hand over half his face. His emotions have been all over the shop and yet, this is the first time he is able to let the show. Even if that means showing them to your boyfriend's insane older brother. 

The doctor is pulled roughly into an embrace. All the air escaping him. His instinct to fight, kicking in. His eyes snapped open. He sees Mycroft standing by his desk. Unmoved. Unchanged. His nose is assaulted with the familiar scent. He grabs the face that is pressed to his chest. It moved with much reluctance. John's hand moved from his face to card through the curls on the head. Their lips connecting as if the other had all stolen their air. His finger's became tighter. Holding onto as he felt himself falling into the body of the other. They push into each other. Grasping hands wrap around him. 

The face slides. Lips resting against John's chin. Both breathing heavily. It is then that John finally notices how wet his face is. His chin slowly becomes as wet as his cheeks. The body in his arms falls limp against his body as John presses his face into the curls. He is distantly aware of Mycroft watching on. Those thoughts are disturbed as a hand slides back up to hold onto his arm. The body lifting and pulling away slightly. 

"Mycroft brought me when he found out about your leave. I missed," He breaks off. Sherlock begins to wipe away the tears from John's face. "I missed you so much. He's managed to get you the rest of the day off. I'm not sure to be honest. When I found out where I was going, I didn't really hear anything else said to me." John looks at him. He took hold of Sherlock's hand and gave it a squeeze before letting it go. He steps forward, away from Sherlock, and stalks over to the man in a suit. They look over each other. Trying to assess each other through sight. John lunges forward and holds Mycroft. Mycroft is frozen, his jaw drops open. In the distance Sherlock snickers. John leans slightly into Mycroft's chest, "Thank you." His voice is hardly audible, but it echoes in the room. 

"He can stay until tomorrow. You still have duties in the morning to attend to, however, he may remain in your barracks. I will be here to collect him at 11pm. You are relieved of the rest of your duties tonight. That's all I could do." As he spoke, John moved back. Listening to every word. Finding them a special place in his heart. John's mouth is held agape. It turns into a smile when the familiar arms wrap around his torso. Curls resting against his cheek. Mycroft gives them a stiff nod, an uncharacteristically warm smile, and leaves the room. John turns in the embrace. Planting soft kisses on the man he holds dear. 

* * *

They cleaned themselves up and began to walk to John's barrack. A few soldiers stop in greeting. Word had spread about the captain's foul mood over the past few days. On the most part they were ignored. Only presented a cursory greeting as they moved through the base. 

After coming out to Sami and Bill, John stopped hiding. Well, he didn't monitor what he said. He didn't tell everyone that he was seeing a bloke. He also didn't not tell them. If anyone asked, John would tell them all about his brilliant boyfriend. He also didn't parade that fact around. He just didn't lie if someone asked about his life back home. Due to this, a couple soldiers knew about Sherlock. Even fewer had seen his picture. Most of the soldiers who knew, were ones that had tried to flirt with the captain. Causing him to turn them down with a, "My boyfriend won't like that." Curious glances were thrown at them from some as they walked through the base. 

Once arriving at the barracks, John moved to let Sherlock enter first. He stood in the middle of the room. Observing. John stood behind him. Sami and Bill wouldn't be back for hours. Sherlock walked straight to John's bed after he looked around the room. He belly flopped onto the bed. Burying his face into the pillow. It was then that John finally took notice of the man. Finally took in how Sherlock was dressed. He still had his black suit trousers  _ \- Why he thought dress clothes in a desert was a good idea, was beyond John -  _ and his grey top. The grey top he had sent. John crossed the short distance and laid on top of Sherlock's back. Holding the man close as his face pressed between his shoulder blades. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lost control of this story a while back. The characters stole my laptop and I'm just being made to watch on, really.  
> I hope you like it.

John and Sherlock were intertwined on top of John's bed. Kisses being pressed against Sherlock's back. They hadn't moved in a while. Just sharing the warmth they had been craving for months. John can feel Sherlock's breath begin to even out. He knows that he's about to drift off. John pulls back, lifting himself from the comfort of his boyfriend. Sherlock groans at the sudden loss of John, prompting a slap on his arse from the man. Sherlock lifts his head from the depths of the bed to look over at John. 

John was looking down at him, a loving look across his face. His hand outstretched for Sherlock to take. Sherlock grumbled as he stood, still half way to sleep. John got to work. He moved around the swaying man and began to strip the bed. The sheets were moved to the side of the bed as he remade it. He turned and gave Sherlock a wide grin. He was met with a confused expression in the tired eyes. "Take my sheets home. Then, my sheets will smell like you; your sheets will smell like me." Sherlock crashed once again into John. Bringing them both down onto the fresh sheets. Suddenly, Sherlock was wide awake. 

* * *

They spent all their time in bed together. Wrapped around each other. Sherlock's head was resting on John's clavicle, his hand on John's chest. The rest of his body was curled tightly around the length of John. They had fallen asleep in the embrace. Both only wearing a pair of pants. Their torsos were uncovered, the sheets trapping their legs as if binding them together. 

They had been sleeping for a about an hour when John's eyes burst open. One arm tightening around the sleeping form. His other arm instinctively reached towards where his gun was stashed. Sherlock hums. A voice is heard in the dark. John can't see a thing. His arms moving slowly so not to be seen. "Calm down cap'. Only us." A wave of relief crashed over him. He placed his gun away. John had never been asleep when someone else entered. He was always the last to bed.

Sherlock shifted against his body. John knew he was waking. His hand raked through his cropped hair before he moved to run his fingers through Sherlock's hair. Slowly waking the man. He could hear the other men moving around the room. He almost laughs at the exasperated sound coming from Bill. "Cap' you up? I can't see shit. Need a light or summin'" John does start to laugh at this. A quiet, breathy laugh. He turns his head towards Sherlock and feels him nod against his neck. "Yeah go for it." He screws his eyes shut so he can adjust. Sherlock's face turns further into his neck to smother the sudden light. 

Blinking away the spots in his vision, John looks at the man in his arms. Sherlock's face was slightly scrunched into John's body. His breath tickling John's neck. With a soft smile and his vision restored, John turns his head away. Near his bed, Bill and Sami are standing. They are catatonic. Mouths hanging against their knees.  _ What? Why are - oh. _ "Uh, 'Lock. Hey, Sherlock, this is Sami and Bill. You, um, they spoke on the phone." 

Sherlock's head finally raised. A loose smile playing on his lips. His curls fall in disarray. His neck was lined with purple marks and a few scrapes. The eyes that held so much knowledge, had become clouded through sleep and his relaxed state. He propped himself up using a hand on the centre of John's chest. "Pleasure to meet you." Sherlock extends one hand as he says this. They hesitantly took it. Eyes still fixed on him. Sherlock lays back down on John's chest, shuffling so that he got comfortable again. No one moves. They all look between each other.  _ At least they shut their mouths.  _ John was beginning to feel uncomfortable under their gaze. 

"You two are bloody lucky I'm too blissed out to hit you. Stop staring!" The trance was broken immediately. Both the soldiers moved away quickly to get ready for bed. Next to him, Sherlock stiffens, his head lifting to look at John's face. They look into each other's eyes as the men move around the space. They stay like that for a while. Sherlock's gaze was unwavering. John's flickering around his face as he tries to work out what is going on in that funny old head. 

The men settle and turn their attention back to John and Sherlock. Watching in fascination. Sherlock finally, after what feels like hours, moves. He leans down slightly, his lips grazing John's. Not full contact, only teasing. His hand moves to run through John's hair. He grips it tight when John tries to bring their lips together again. Holding his head firm. Sherlock begins to cover John's face and neck in light kisses. Only grazing his lips occasionally. 

Sherlock's lips crash against John's. Drawing a moan from the captain's throat. Sherlock's fingers still tangled in the short hair. The passion is building between them. Sherlock shifts his body so he is no longer just on John's side, but completely covering him. Their mouths still locked. Another groan comes from John's chest, this time accompanied by a hum from Sherlock's. 

Then John's alone. The contact is gone. He opens his eyes to see Sherlock sat up, looking down at him. A smirk pulling at his lips. Before John can do anything, Sherlock moves off him and stands at the side of the bed. "I hate you." Sherlock looks down at John and laughs at his expression before saying, "No you don't. Need the loo. Where is it?" John sits up, shifting the blankets and looking up at Sherlock. "No I'm not showing you. Piss yourself, messing with me like that." Sherlock just hums and picks up his discarded clothes from the floor. "John. Hurry up, or I'll get someone else to." Grumbling, John reaches for some clothes and pulls them on. Adjusting them slightly then standing before Sherlock. The smirk hadn't left Sherlock's mouth. A slight scowl forming on John's. With John in lead, they begin to walk to the toilets.

Sami and Bill turn to face each other. Both wide eyed. "What the hell was that?" They both break out into hysterics. Clutching their sides and wiping their eyes. "He got orders from a Civi." They were gasping for breath. Choked out words forming, trying to depict what they had just witnessed. It was bound to be something they never let John live down. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yesterday, I fell off my skateboard and hurt my arm. So it's been taking me longer to type. Which sucks because I know what exactly what happens next, it's just taking ages to type it out.   
> Anyway, hope you like this.

John was glad to see that the initial shock had worn off when they returned from the bathroom. Sami and Bill had both settled and were playing a card game. "Hey Sherlock! Ever play Irish snap?" Sami had called over his shoulder, momentarily pausing their game. Sherlock took hold of John's hand and pulled him over, sitting next to the men. John sat next to him and Sherlock moved closer. Their hands still clasped. "Deal us in." 

Sherlock was surprisingly amazing at the game. Bill's hand was bright red. They had made the mistake of going easy on Sherlock. It was a game they played during most of their down time, it was a great stress reliever and was quite fun. Sherlock would slam his hand down with great force that he made the soldiers hesitate. And yet, he never struck John. Instead he just leant against his side. 

John looked down at the hands. His own was a startling shade of red. Sherlock's - even redder than John's. He looked over at Sami and Bill. Their hands were red, the skin slightly raised. He saw the grimace on Bill's face as Sami's hand hit his. They had been playing for a while. John was placing his cards on autopilot as he spoke. He wasn't playing any attention to what ones were placed. His pile growing rapidly. Sherlock took hold of half his deck. "You okay?" Sherlock whispered against his ear as he took the cards. John mentally shook himself. "Yeah, yeah. Last game boys, alright." John got stuck back into the game. He lost. 

They had all climbed into bed. Sherlock curled into John's side. He held his hand, kissing the back of it. They held onto each other. Neither sleeping, even as the snoring of the others filled the room. Sherlock lifted his head to look John in the eyes. "I love you." Their lips connecting in a lazy kiss. "I love you, too." They share another kiss. Sherlock lies back down on John's chest and they drift off together. 

* * *

In the morning, John slips out of the bed leaving Sherlock to sleep. He began to dress. Pulling his uniform on he didn't notice the eyes that were looking up at him. John turns around to collect some more of his things. He can see Sami and Bill following the same routine he is following. 

A smile had been plastered on his face since Sherlock had surprised him the day previous. He finishes dressing. Usually they all talk in the mornings to wake each other up. This time they were moving in silence, surrounded by the early morning light. None of them wanted to wake Sherlock before necessary. John was buckling his belt and straightening his shirt when long arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him down. He let out a yelp as he fell onto Sherlock's lap. Sami and Bill began to giggle, and Sherlock gave John a kiss. 

"Stay here. Alright? I'll be back for you later on. I love you, you brilliant, amazing man." John was mumbling against Sherlock's lips. He heard Bill and Sami leave. They shared another kiss and stood. Sherlock went about straightening his clothes again. John stared into the eyes of his lover as his fingers smoothed over his body. They share another kiss before John leaves to do his rounds. Sherlock picks up the pictures next to the bed and flicks through them. 

* * *

  
  


All John could think about was the man sitting in his barracks. The time crawled. He saw Bill, who gave a look of sympathy whenever they caught eyes. John threw himself into the work. Almost as if he worked faster then the clock would move faster. He knew this wouldn't work and he was making himself tired, but what if it did work? What if he went at his normal pace and the clock did in fact work like that? He also knew he was starting to go a little crazy. Turns out that's just what happens when a certain lanky detective is waiting for you. 

Just before he could leave to get some food -  _ and just so happen to end up in his barrack _ \- a nurse stopped him. "Attack. They're bringing in wounded now. We've got bullet wounds, possible surgeries." The nurse disappeared to prep. This wasn't rare. It happened often. That didn't stop John thinking it was the universe's big middle finger to him. He went to prepare the surgery tools he might need. He would just have to see Sherlock later. 

* * *

John was performing surgery on a child. Shrapnel had become lodged in his chest. John had been slowly pulling all the small pieces of metal from the kid. He looked so small and frail on the table. This was the third case like this he had so far. There were more he would need to help, this was just the smallest that had come in. He was rushed through as soon as he came in. Children were a priority. The rhythmic sound of the shrapnel hitting the metal dish kept John's mind occupied. He hadn't thought about the time. He hadn't seen the clock. He hadn't even seen the lanky detective standing next to Bill, watching John work. 

He finished cleaning up the child and moved onto another person. Bullet wound. He worked. Reaching to his side he saw he ran out of gauze. His other hand pressing on the man's chest John shouted, "Nurse! Gauze!" His gaze stuck on the man before him. Looking over where he needed to apply pressure, and what other injuries the man had. He felt a presence next to him, without looking at them he took the offered bandages. He kept working. The nurse kept handing over everything John would need without him having to ask. 

They worked together. The nurse stayed out of the way as he worked. Just as John was fixing the last bandage he said, "Thank you, nurse." His gaze still on his moving hands. "That's no problem, John." The deep baritone was enough to make John's breath stop as he finally looked away from his hands. John gave a massive grin, which was happily returned. "Help me with the next one?" Together they worked to patch up the wounded. 

"So, I told you to stay in the barracks. Why are you here exactly? No that I mind." John was pulling more shrapnel out of someone and placing the metal into the dish in Sherlock's hands. They had been working in near silence until then. "Well, I heard about the wounded. I knew you wouldn't eat. So I brought lunch. I gave some to Bill and some of the other nurses. You were working too hard to notice. It's still waiting for you." John looked up at him, then over at the nearby nurses. Everyone near was smiling knowingly at him. He shook his head as he heard Sherlock chuckling at his reaction. They kept working. 

* * *

They were back laying in bed. Mycroft would be here to collect Sherlock any moment. They worked together all afternoon. Stopping to have a quick snack before working on the next person. Sherlock stayed out of everyone's way. Helping anyone that needed it, but mainly staying by John's side. This time John was laying on Sherlock's chest. Thinking of the day they had shared. No one had questioned why Sherlock was there, they just worked with him. 

John lifted his head when Mycroft entered the room. He looked the man over before putting his head back on Sherlock's chest. Neither had spoken about their separation, just like last time. They knew it was coming, but somehow, saying it aloud would make it too real. Mycroft doesn't move. Just stands in the doorway, looking over the room. He doesn't look at the two men. 

Reluctantly, John sits up. They stand and hold each other tight. "I love you." Both mumble the words against each other's lips. Breathing in the scent of the other. They pull apart. John reaches for the sheets and hands them over to Sherlock. A hand on Sherlock's cheek, John pulls him into a gentle loving kiss. He stands back and lets the man walk away. Mycroft turns to look at him after Sherlock walks out of the room. "Stay safe, John. He needs you at home." He gives a stiff nod and leaves after his brother. John stands in the empty room trying to control himself. Trying to keep it together. This time it seemed harder. He stood chewing his lips, tears fighting to break through. He won't let them. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick text exchange.   
> Hope you like it!

* * *

* * *

_ Sherlock _

**John**

* * *

* * *

_ I miss you.  _

_ How are things over there? How's Sami and Bill?  _

**I miss you too. They're fine. They're watching me as I type. You have been the talk of the med bay.**

_ Well, the boyfriend of the Captain showing up on base is a big thing.  _

**Only Bill knew it was you. They're all trying to figure out who you are.**

**Bill and Sami have kept quiet so far. I haven't shown your picture to many. They keep trying to figure out who that "man giving the captain sex eyes" was.**

_ In my defence, you did look very hot. It's hardly my fault if they saw the eyes.  _

**Hahahaha**

_ What else did they say about me?  _

**I've heard some women talk about you in ways I'm not comfortable to repeat.**

**Although, it did make me laugh when I heard them.**

**They keep looking out to see if you'll be back.**

**No one has actually asked me yet. I can't wait to see their faces when they find out.**

_ That is amazing. Seriously? They haven't asked? We spent all the time joined at the hip. Obviously you would know who I am.  _

_ The way I was looking at you, the way you were looking at me. I'm sorry to tell you this, John, but your nurses are idiots.  _

**Maybe I should be more obvious then.**

**Some woman began flirting with me not 10 minutes after I heard her talk about you. I almost told her "Those things you said about doing? Yeah, I've actually done them to him" It wouldn't have been professional so I brushed her off and carried on. But can you imagine.**

_ Who? Who flirted?  _

_ John?  _

_ What did she say?  _

_ I'll tell Mycroft. He'll get her sent somewhere else.  _

_ John? answer me.  _

_ I need a name.  _

_ John? _

**Oh my god Sherlock**

**Stop I can't breathe**

**There is nothing to be jealous over**

**Nothing happened**

__

_ I am not jealous _

_ Who is she? _

**Sherlock, please. My sides hurt.**

**Bill and Sami are looking at me with concern**

**I love you, you clot. I don't care for her in the least.**

**You don't need Mycroft to send her away.**

**If she tries again, I'll tell her that my boyfriend is the EXTREMELY jealous type with a brother in high places.**

_ Shut up _

_ I'm not "extremely Jealous"  _

_ She was being unprofessional. I'm just trying to help you out.  _

_ So, you won't give me her name?  _

**HAHAHA Sherlock**

**I**

**LOVE**

**YOU**

**Calm down or I'll call Greg. Maybe he can knock some sense into you.**

_ I love you too _

_ You'll text me if she does it again right?  _

**Of course I will.**

**How have things been your end?**

_ I've been getting private cases. I'm making my own money.  _

_ Lestrade has been calling me in more often. Much to his team's dismay.  _

_ I put your sheets in an airtight bag. Is that weird? Lestrade said so, But Mrs Hudson said it was sweet.  _

**It is incredibly sweet.**

**Do you take it out to get a big whiff when you miss me?**

**Okay, saying it like that, it is a little weird. But also very sweet.**

**I'm glad you're getting more cases. Maybe that will keep the jealousy at bay.**

_ Shut. Up. John. I am not jealous. We are not talking about it.  _

**Oh don't sulk. I can't see your pout. I think it's adorable when you pout.**

_ I am not pouting. I don't pout. What are you talking about? _

**Yeah, you're right. You don't pout. Much like you don't get jealous.**

_ As much as I hate to say this, I have to go. I'm at a crime scene and they're annoyed I'm on my phone.  _

**You're at a crime scene???**

_ Yes. Murder. It was the brother. Obvious. Shot him after he found out about an affair.  _

**You're texting me while standing over a dead guy? wow. It doesn't even seem out of place for you. It actually seems right in a way. God, I love you.**

_ It's not like he will mind.  _

_ I love you too.  _

_ Stay safe.  _

**You too xx**


	11. Chapter 11

Sherlock was walking around the crime scene. A mother and father had been killed. The only person in the house was their five-year-old daughter. The case had stumped Lestrade and his team. So they called in Sherlock. He walked around the room. The bodies had been removed, but the rest of the scene had been preserved. He was given pictures of the bodies from all angles once he arrived.

His phone began to ring from within the depths of his jacket. He fished it out and tore his eyes away from the scene to look at his screen. John. John was calling him. He looked around then back at the phone. He needs to solve the case.  _ But John is calling. _ Making a decision he swipes up so he can send a message instead. 

_ Can you video call? _

**Yeah, of course**

The phone in his hand sprung to life again. He clicked to accept. John's face lit up the screen. A bright smile spread across his face. He was sitting on his bed. Leaning back against the wall. All that Sherlock could see was John's face in front of the plain wall. 

"Hey, Sherlock! Where are you?" John was looking past him, confusion on his face as he tried to work out where Sherlock was. 

"I'm at a crime scene. Mother and father dead. Child lives, five, asleep. No one else." His voice was trailing as he spoke. Distracted by his own thoughts as they swirled past his view unconnected. 

"How did they die?" 

Sherlock looks down at his phone and into John inquisitive eyes, "They're not sure yet. Waiting on test results from the lab. Something's not right. We're missing something."

"Well that would be the cause of death," Sherlock looked back down at his phone, fixing John with a glare. "Have the bodies been taken? If they're still there, can I see?" 

Sherlock begins to walk through to where Lestrade is standing. He picks up the files containing the pictures and walks over to the dining room table. He places the phone down and one by one, lays out the photos that have been taken. Picking up the phone again, he swaps the camera lense and hovers over the first picture. 

"All we have are the photographs. Tell me when you want the next one." 

They worked in silence. Only speaking when John prompted for the next photo. Lestrade's team slowly faded out of the house. There were only a handful left eventually. Sherlock pays them no mind. His gaze flickering over the pictures as John did the same. 

"Sherlock?" He moved the phone to the next picture. "No, Sherlock? Go back." The camera went back to the previous picture. It was the woman's face from the side. Nothing special. 

"John? Do you see something?" 

"Yeah, maybe. Do you have one for the man like that? The side of the face." There's some shuffling of paper and another image is placed on the screen. 

"Yes! There, Sherlock. Just under the ear lobe on both of them. Is that a pinprick?" Sherlock placed the phone down and picked up the photographs. He looked over them. Mentally scolding himself for the oversight. 

"John! You are a genius!" 

The camera began to sway and John could hear Sherlock in the background. His words spilled out of his mouth faster than a bullet - and John knew that from experience. He heard Greg, "Slow down, Sherlock… Sherlock I can't keep up… Seriously… Sher- How did you know that?" John was routed to the spot. Transfixed on the phone. Bill and Sami had fallen silent to listen too. Everyone trapped between each word that passed the detective's lips. 

Sherlock stood looking at all the officers. The phone in his hand, forgotten. The smile on his face began to slip as he looked over all the blank expressions. All the air was drained from his body.  _ They don't follow. Again. They never follow.  _ He looks over to Lestrade. His head is shaking as his pen scribbles across the page of his notebook.  _ Still catching up. _ He glances at Donovan. She is talking to Anderson, "Freak."  _ They just don't get it, do they? _ His thoughts are interrupted when a small voice echoes from his hand. "Brilliant. Absolutely fantastic. Sherlock, that was amazing! Unbelievable, a pinprick, that's it. That's all he had. Bill did you hear that?" 

Sherlock raised his phone, his mouth agape, heat rising in his cheeks at the praise. "You - you think so?" 

John looks Sherlock in the eyes, "Of course I think so. That was truly incredible. Surely you know that." He lets out a soft chuckle, but stops short when he sees the lost expression on Sherlock's face. "Oh, 'Lock. You really don't know? We are sitting in amazement. Seriously." From the distance Sherlock can hear Sami and Bill shouting their praise, but their praise doesn't matter. He looks up at Lestrade, his gaze panning around the room. He gives John a radiating grin then sweeps from the house. 

He talks to John during the cab ride home, as he climbs the stairs, and as he throws his coat and sits in his chair. They talk about nothing. They sit in the silences that follow. They smile and laugh. It almost feels normal, as if John is sitting in his chair across. Sherlock asks about the nurses in the med bay. "Do they know who I am yet?" 

John gives a hearty laugh, "No. They think I'm as straight as an arrow." Sherlock joins him in his laughing. "Arrows go both ways. Seriously John, your nurses are idiots. Have they asked you out again?" They both suddenly sobered. Sherlock's gaze slipping from the phone to land on the fireplace. They spend the rest of the call assuring each other that there is no one else they would rather be with. 

John is pulled away to the call of sleep. He drifts on camera until Sherlock finally brings himself to say goodbye. 

* * *

Sherlock was sitting at his kitchen table. Tissue paper strewn about. Wrapping paper hanging from the edge of the table, tape clinging to his arm as he tries to find the scissors. The door opens and he glances up. Mrs Hudson looks at the mess before her and tuts as she moves to his side. 

"It's only just November, dear. Getting a headstart on Christmas? I didn't think you'd care." Still distracted Sherlock gives an almost silent hum. "I don't care, but… This is for John. I need to send it soon so it doesn't get lost in the post. We can't be together, so... this is the next best thing." His hands become more tangled in the tape as he tries to escape it's sticky clutches. 

Mrs Hudson plants a kiss on his forehead and helps him with the tape. He watches on. Once she has freed him, she cleans the table so that everything is in some form of order. She pushes him slightly so he can move out of the way. She carries on cleaning while Sherlock stands at the other end of the table. She picks up a chair and places it next to where Sherlock had been sat. She sits and motions for him to join her. 

They work together through the afternoon. Wrapping everything Sherlock had brought in red and green patterned paper. She showed him how to, much like a mother would. She gave a soft chuckle when he finished wrapping the clothes and moved onto the food. He wrapped chocolate bars, and loose sweets. Each item wrapped individually. After four attempts she helped him wrap a jar of honey. 

They carefully place each item into the box, trying to not tear the freshly wrapped gifts. He pushes the box to the end of the table and reaches for a piece of paper and pen. The pen flies across the page, leaving his scrawl in its wake. 

_ John,  _

_ Happy Christmas, I know this is early. Well, I assume so. I wanted to make sure you get it in time. If it's not Christmas day or past, brilliant. I didn't expect that. There's no rules, so open this whenever you want. There's plenty for you to share with Bill and Sami. Just don't give it all away, I know what you're like. Hope you enjoy it. I love you. I miss you.  _

_ Love,  _

_ Sherlock xx _

He folds the note and puts it in a small envelope. Then stuffs a few small images he had printed, in beside the note. Pulling the box back in front of him, he carefully tapes the envelope to the lid. He looks over at Mrs Hudson's fond smile and gives her a bashful one in return. They wrap the box in the brown paper. She watches on as he jumps up with the box to go to the post office. "That daft boy." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what the solution to the crime is. I made it up as I wrote. So it's up to the reader to fill in the blanks.   
> Hope you enjoyed it.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a filler. A phone call between the boys.   
> I was thinking of updating the tags. Although, I'm not too sure what exactly to add. If there's anything in particular you think I should add, please let me know. Enjoy.

_ You have to tell him. He'll find out eventually.  _ John was throwing himself into his work again.  _ He's going to hate you _ . He patches up anyone that passes. Burying his nose into the paperwork he needs to fill.  _ Tell him before Mycroft does. _ He exercises in all his spare time.  _ He'll never forgive you if you don't tell him first.  _ He pushes himself until he collapses on his bed. Thinking. Mind whirring.  _ How can you say?  _

He can't sleep. His pacing around the barracks, keeping his roommates awake. They share concerned glances as John mutters to himself. They need to stop this. They know he's driving himself crazy. It's only been a few days and he's getting out of control. 

"Right that's it. I can't take this any more than you can." Bill springs out of bed, startling John as he rushes past. He grabs the phone that's sat on top of John's sheets. John stares in disbelief, trying to work out what's gotten into his friend, he casts a glance at Sami. He is met with a confused shrug. They turn over to watch as Bill types away on the phone. The phone is pressed against Bill's ear. His fist resting on his hip as he taps his foot. Bill looks at the other two as he waits with the phone by his ear. 

"Hi Sherlock!" John moves forward but falls short when Bill holds his finger up. "How are you? Yeah, that's great. I'm tired. I want to sleep... Well, I called because your boyfriend needs to tell you something and if he carries on pacing, I will shoot him." He holds the phone for John to take and then stalks over to his bed. Burying himself in his blankets as John looks at him in horror. 

"John? What's going on? Are you okay?" John presses the phone to his ear. 

"I'm fine, you?" He moves to sit on his bed. 

"I was until I got a strange call. What do you have to tell me?" John can hear the concern in his voice.  _ Reassure him. _

"Yeah, sorry about that. Bill could have just told me I was annoying him." The words were mainly spoken to Bill. 

"So?"

"Where are you?" 

"At home. John, what's going on?"

"Are you alone?" 

"Yes. Seriously, John. Tell me. You're not hurt are you?"

"No, no I'm not hurt. Could you maybe- call someone over? Just so you're not alone. Mycroft? Greg? Mrs H?" 

"JOHN! What is happening? Talk to me! Please. You're scaring me." 

"Please, I don't want to tell you when you're alone."

"Fine. Hold on," The line is quiet for a few seconds. John begins to catch his breath. "Mycroft is on his way. Can you tell me now?" 

"Okay… Don't interrupt. I got some news… I-I have to go on patrol. There was an attack. It is perfectly safe. I'm only there to help if we find anyone. Bill and Sami will be there too, but… well… We know it's no guarantee that nothing will happen. I will be safe. I just wanted to say… in-in case, just in case. Sherlock?" The other end is quiet. The only sound coming from Sherlock's breathing. 

"You'll be safe?" His voice is small. Almost inaudible. 

"Yes! Yeah. Like I said, Sami and Bill will be there. So will many others. It's just routine patrol. Check the area, get back to base, fix the wounded." 

Sherlock's breathing is growing heavy. John can hear it grow irregular through the phone. 

"Sherlock? Sherlock, love? I need you to breathe. I'll be alright. Breathe with me." He exaggerates his breathing. Trying to get him to join. Sami and Bill both sit up, moving forward, but unable to help. 

"John? What did you tell him? He's panicking." John sighs in relief at the sound of Mycroft's voice.

"I'm going on patrol. I need you to calm his breathing. Is Greg there? Is it just you? Mycroft, what's happening?" 

He can hear a shuffling in the background. 

"John? It's Greg. Are you alright?" 

John saggs back on his bed.  _ He'll be fine. _

"I'm being sent on patrol. It will be safe. Although, there's always a chance. I will be fine. They wouldn't send me if I wouldn't be. I knew he wouldn't forgive me if I didn't tell him. Make him a tea." 

He listens to the sounds of Mycroft whispering to Sherlock. Sherlock's breathing as it slows. The footsteps as Greg moves about the flat. The kettle being flicked on. 

"He's calming down. I think it was just a panic attack. Mycroft has him, cradling him in his arms. I'll pass you over when he's collected. You'll be safe?"

"I will be fine. There is a risk, but there always would be." He hears Greg hum and the calming sounds of the tea making process. They're quiet. 

"Greg? Can you keep an eye on him? I won't be able to talk to him regularly. Give him a good case or something?"

"Don't worry, John. He'll be fine. I just don't think he expected it." 

He listens to the footsteps. The sound of Mycroft's voice growing louder. A shuffling, a sniffle. John looks at Bill and Sami. They're no longer on high alert. They have climbed back into bed. Attention fixed on John. 

"Sorry, John."

"Hey, 'Lock. It's okay. You saw. Remember? You saw how I helped everyone. That's all I'll be doing, just outside," He listens to the breathing on the other end. "Are you okay?" 

"I'm fine. I thought you were hurt. I panicked. Momentary lapse in judgement. I'm okay. Don't you dare get hurt." 

They both laugh at that, but John can hear the choke in Sherlock's voice. He can hear the way Mycroft holds him, the way Greg is sitting close. He can picture the whole scene and it hurts. 

"I won't. Bill and Sami will never let me do that to you. I love you. Don't worry. We knew this would happen eventually."

They fall silent for a while. Just listening to the sounds around them. John can hear more shuffling followed by footsteps. These ones are lighter. The sound of a door closing softly, springs compressing. Sherlock is in bed. He left them and lay in bed. John closes his eyes and pictures him, lying in bed with the phone pressed against his cheek. 

"I miss you. I love you too. I just really miss you. If they don't keep you safe then Lestrade will be solving their murder. Well he'll get stumped and call me in, so I know I won't get caught." 

John bursts out laughing. He tries to calm himself.  _ He's actually serious isn't he? _

"I'll let them know, but it's not necessary. Promise. Now, get some rest. Do not kick your brother out. Okay?"

"Okay John. I love you, stay safe."

"You too." 

The line goes dead. 


	13. Chapter 13

**First day on patrol today. I'm fine. Can't talk all day. I'll be able to text just before we go out, but I'll be too busy. Love you.**

  


John sent the message then secured the phone in his belt. Bill was waiting for him in the doorway. Sami had already made his way down. John would be in charge of a small group of soldiers. His team consists of seven, including him. Sami would be with Kade Wright, Elliot Hancock, Charleigh May, and Pritha Andrews. They were a good bunch. John would be with Bill, they made up the medical team. They would be securing the area and helping anyone they found. John wasn't holding out on finding anyone. 

  


They all clambered into the vehicle. Andrews in the driver's seat, Hancock beside. John sat in the back with the rest of the team. They joked around with each other. Sharing stories of life at home and life at war. They spoke of Wright's kids, and May's wife. John sat back, laughing and listening to his team. It was a long ride and he was glad to relax with his fellow soldiers. "I can't wait to go home to my kids. Feel like I'm doing them proud, you know?" Wright looked around at the teams nodding heads. "So, what about you captain? Got a lady waiting? Some family? Got a sister or something right?" 

  


John's eyebrows raised. He didn't think he was that private. They only know about Harry? "Uh, yeah. Harry, my sister. Don't see my parents much. To be fair, hardly see Harry. Used to stay at hers when I was on leave. Curse of our occupation. Suppose I'll be seeing her less now. Moved into my boyfriend's flat." He was looking towards the floor as he spoke. He hadn't really thought of his family. Hasn't seen his parents in well over a year. "Wait. You're gay?" 

  


John looks up into the eyes of May. His gaze flicked to Wright before it settled on Bill and Sami. They were red in the face as they tried to keep their giggles at bay. The others looked back at him, eyebrows drawn, mouth opening and closing much like a fish. "I'm bisexual. Did you not know? Really? Have you not heard me talk about Sherlock? I wasn't trying to keep it a secret." He lets out a small chuckle at the sound of Bill and Sami collapsing into a heap of giggles. "Sherlock?" Everyone turns to look at Andrews. Andrews and Hancock had been quite the entire journey. 

  


"Sherlock? The bloke everyone has been going on about from med bay? That's your boyfriend?" Everyone turns their gaze towards John. The base had been raving about the mysterious Sherlock. No one knew who he was, where he came from, or where he went. They had started rumours that he was from another base. Or that he was a government official there to give a spot check. Everyone seemed to like him. Some of the men and women on base liked him perhaps too much for John's liking. Bill and Sami had managed to calm themselves slightly. 

  


"Yeah. Sherlock from med bay. Didn't realise he was so famous," He gave a weak chuckle as he looked around at the team. "He'll like that. Can't stand when someone talks of me, but can't get enough when it's about him. How long?" It took them all a few moments to register the change in conversation. "About ten minutes now, cap'." They all fell into a comfortable silence as they rode through the desert. 

  


* * *

  


They move through the buildings and the ruins. The village has been completely destroyed in the recent attacks. There had been soldiers helping evacuate, but they couldn't do much without causing injury to many more civilians. John led the team through the wreckage. They moved from room to room, checking. They had set areas to check each day. Then, come nightfall, they camp out so as to not waste time on travel. If they find anyone needing medical attention, John and Bill will patch them up then - depending on severity - call base for transport. 

  


They didn't find anyone on their first day. They set up camp. Sami and John took the first watch. All was quiet. Their nights filled with jokes and stories in hushed tones. They would be on the move again at dawn. 

  


**I'm still fine. There's nothing here but brick and sand. I love you.**

  


On the second day, they found a small family. With John in the lead, they walked through a destroyed house. They had been on the move for about three hours. No one was expecting to find anyone. As they split up in the house, Hancock came across a mother with two young children. Through the radio John heard the call for them. They had been up stairs. John climbed them and came face to face with Hancock. He sat with the children and mother, giving them a check up. Hancock stood as look out and called for transport. 

  


They didn't find anyone else day two. The night was still filled with laughter and stories. However, this time, they had less to share and settled down early. Andrews and May took first watch that night. 

  


**Day 3. Yesterday we found mother and children. They're fine, sent to our base to check. I love you. I'm fine.**

  


The third day they walked through the houses. Checking for anything. This time John heard the crackling over the radio. He made his way to Wright. Gun held aloft as he moved through the abandoned buildings. A wounded man lay on the floor by Wright's feet. John gets to work. The man had been shot, he was in a bad way. The hardest part of the job is making the call. He looks up to Wright. Words are not needed. John gives a slight nod and pulls out some morphine from his pack. 

  


Everyone is quiet that night as they dig. Sami speaks of the unknown man in the shallow grave. John sends Hancock to rest when he can't sleep. He sits by the grave and Sami joins him. He hates making the call. 

  


**We found someone yesterday. We were too late. Sami prayed for him. I'm fine. I love you.**

  


The previous days events had been brushed aside by the team as they carried on forward. They were all tired. They wanted their proper beds, a warm meal, shelter. They sat to eat lunch. Everyone kept an eye out, scanning the area, as they munched away. The group had grown more and quiet as the days passed. John is looking out to the horizon when he hears a gun cock. He swivels and draws his own as the rest of the team follow suit. No one knows what they're looking for. May holds up their hand. They had been first to pull out their gun. Weary eyes flicker around the area as a figure moves between the rubble. May looks towards John for guidance. He stands and adjusts his gun in his grip. 

  


He steps forward. His team covers him as he moves towards the unknown figure. A hand raises. Small. "Come out! We won't shoot!" He puts on his best captain voice. A child. No. Two, one child holding the hand of a smaller child. The team lowered their weapons slightly. John drops him to the floor and pulls out some bandages to show the children. They move forward. The team forms a circle where they sit. One hand on the trigger, the other on their lunch. The children sit with John in the centre. Bill passes glances to make sure he is not needed. John pulls out the rest of his food and hands it to the children as he covers their wounds. He cleans their faces as someone calls for transport. They wave as the children leave. The team hands some food each to their captain. They keep moving. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are some descriptions of death in this chapter. I have marked the chapters with asterisks (***) to clearly mark. If you want to skip those paragraphs, it makes no difference to the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the penultimate chapter. I will be making another in the series to accompany this one. I wanted to break up the story so it didn't have too much in it. This chapter is longer than all my others. Hope you enjoy.

Sherlock woke that morning to the sound of someone in the kitchen. As silently as possible he climbed out of bed. He was wearing the grey top and a pair of joggers that were slightly too short for him. The closer he got to his door the more he could smell something.  _ Is that coffee? _ He opens the door and walks out carefully. "Good. You're finally up!" Sherlock stops short when he sees Lestrade making coffee. Lestrade turns to look at Sherlock. In response to his confusion he sighs and says, "I did text. It's almost noon." 

Sherlock turns on his heel and goes for the phone resting on his nightstand. The phone has a small flashing green light. He picks it up and opens his messages. 

**< 3<3 John <3<3**

_ 01:37 _

**First day on patrol today. I'm fine. Can't talk all day. I'll be able to text just before we go out, but I'll be too busy. Love you.**

**Lestrade**

_ 08:30 _

__ **Got a case for you. At least a 6.**

_ 09:00 _

__ **Sherlock? Are you ignoring me?**

_ 10:21 _

__ **I can't keep the scene fresh all day**

**Answer me.**

_ 10:56 _

__ **Right I'm on my way. Are you okay?**

_ 11:29 _

__ **I'm outside. Open the door!**

**Your poor landlady!**

He walks out of the bedroom, phone in hand. He looks up at Lestrade, "Sorry." Lestrade stops in his tracks.  _ When has Sherlock ever apologised? _ Taking a sip of his coffee he nods towards the young man. "Go on then, get dressed. I'll give you a lift." Still looking at his first message, Sherlock went back to his room to dress. 

* * *

They arrive at the scene, much to the distaste of Lestrade's colleagues. Sherlock begins to circle the scene. The body was still in place. It would be moved soon. Taking the gloves from Lestrade's outstretched hands, Sherlock began to examine the body to the best of his abilities. 

***

He stands by the body and takes a deep breath. His eyes scan the room. He turns to Lestrade's expectant gaze. "There are twenty-four stab wounds on the body. Not just any stab wounds. These would have been made with a pair of scissors. Large. Heavy. Used by tailors. She lived for a while afterwards. Lying here. No longer than an hour I'd say. Maybe? You'll have to check that. Killer would have been male. Taller than her, used that to his advantage. Killed her and then just left. But why?" 

***

Sherlock was stumped. He couldn't tell much from the body. Only the cause of death and a very nondescript killer. He stalked away ignoring Lestrade's protests. He began to think as he hailed a cab. The rest of his day was spent in his mind palace, going over all the details he could gather. 

* * *

Sherlock had spent the whole night thinking over the case. He was broken out of his reverie by Lestrade once again. "Seriously, answer your phone!" Sherlock had been laid on the sofa. He opened his eyes to see a flustered Lestrade standing above him. Hands on hips. Sherlock looked beside him for his phone. 

**< 3<3 John <3<3**

_ 02:08 _

**I'm still fine. There's nothing here but brick and sand. I love you.**

**Lestrade**

_ 06:23 _

__ **We've got another**

__ _ 06:58 _

__ **You're asleep again aren't you? I'm on my way**

**You best be up and ready.**

**This is serious**

Sherlock looked up at the man. "It's a kid." At that Sherlock bolted from the flat. Lestrade followed. Stopping to pick up Sherlock's coat and shoes as the young man ran into the early morning without them. They climbed into his awaiting car, Lestrade passing over Sherlock's things as he said, "What happened?" Lestrade just drove. He couldn't go through it yet. 

* * *

They arrived at the scene and the officers stood around in disgust. The shocked faces turned to him. No one protested his appearance as they thought of the newest victim. Off to the side, Sherlock saw Anderson. He was pale and looked slightly ill. Next to him Donovan stood rubbing his back and whispering into his ear.  _ Must be bad. _

***

"Are you ready?" Sherlock turned to Lestrade and gave a nod. He was shown to a ditch. He stopped to examine the outside area. It had pretty bad fire damage. All tracks covered by either soot or the police footprints. Sherlock could gather nothing from the outside area. He stepped carefully into the ditch. He almost didn't see the small body hidden among the dirt. Lestrade joined him at the bottom of the ditch. They were the only two in the small space. Sherlock looked over the body with Lestrade. He climbed out of the ditch after about five minutes. Lestrade closed behind. "I can't tell you how old they are, or how long they've been here. I do know that it is the same killer. The weapon is the same although I only counted thirteen wounds this time. The killer felt the need to burn the evidence and hide the body. The last was in the open. Why is this one different? He left something damning on the body. Only explanation. Get Molly to test for any semen, or skin under the finger nails. I don't think she'll find anything though. The kid looks too far gone. He's good. They will strike again. I just don't know when. Send anything you get. I want it all. We need to find him. Keep an eye out for any suspicious killings, they could change methods." 

***

With a stiff nod to Lestrade, Sherlock left the scene. He spent the day going over the files Lestrade had sent. The wall became covered as he stood on the table. Searching for anything. The only connection he could find was the weapon, and that both bodies had been found near each other. 

* * *

Sherlock had moved his chair to the middle of the room. He sat in it and stared at his wall. Nothing matching. He had been given the details from Molly and nothing had been found on either body. The news had spread overnight of a possible serial killer. Lestrade had been receiving false confessions and false tips. Sherlock had printed them all and had them spread across the floor, just in case one was true. 

His phone chirped. He practically flew across the room to fetch it. He had plugged it in to charge when he got in so he didn't miss any new developments. 

**< 3<3 John <3<3**

_ 01:59 _

**Day 3. Yesterday we found mother and children. They're fine, sent to our base to check. I love you. I'm fine.**

_ Was it two in the morning already?  _ He smiled at the message. He gave a slight chuckle when he noticed John's habit of saying, "I'm fine" everyday. He placed the phone next to him and went to make a cuppa. He already knew he wouldn't rest until the killer had been caught. He settled in his chair again.

Lestrade came to visit at four in the afternoon. Sherlock immediately stood, ready for the next piece of the puzzle. Instead, Lestrade took a wooden chair and sat next to Sherlock. There hadn't been another victim yet. They sat in silence. Taking it in turns to make tea and coffee. They went over all the information they had. Nothing connected. They remained in silence until Mycroft showed at the door to take Lestrade home. Neither had noticed how dark outside had become. It was late. Lestrade was falling asleep where he stood and didn't even notice. He left and Sherlock went back to his puzzle. 

* * *

He had no new developments. He was missing something. Something important.  _ How had they not left any evidence?  _ Sherlock couldn't take it. He sprung up from his chair and left the flat. He wandered through the London streets. It was early December. The cold seeping through his coat and nestling by his bones. He needed to think. Someone was going to die. Who? Where? Why? He couldn't think. 

He could see a man in the distance. Stood in the alley. He was alone. The stranger was watching Sherlock. He couldn't make out the features of the man. In the light of the lamp posts, all Sherlock could make out was basic features.  _ Tall-ish. Shirt and tie. Who would wear a shirt and tie at this time? The man was built. His eyes were focused on Sherlock. He had a bulge in his pocket.  _ It all snapped in Sherlock's mind. He's a dealer. Sherlock felt the pull. There was some money in his pocket. He felt his phone buzz against his thigh. He pulled it out, hoping for any news. One message. 

**< 3<3 John <3<3**

_ 02:14 _

__ **We found someone yesterday. We were too late. Sami prayed for him. I'm fine. I love you.**

He looked at the message. His limbs suddenly became heavy. He shook his head at the phone. Blinking several times he looked towards the unknown man. He had begun to walk forward out of the alley. He was looking directly at Sherlock. Sherlock was standing on the other side of the road. His breathing became as heavy as his limbs. The man's features became clearer, even from the other side of the road.  _ Hair slicked to the side. Toothbrush moustache. Looks mid thirties. Maybe?  _ Sherlock shakes himself. He takes hold of his phone. Knuckles turning white. His eyes had been fixed on the man across the road from him. He breaks the gaze and runs. Runs as fast as he can. Running anywhere. 

Phone still in hand he calls a number and brings it to his ear. They answer after three rings. Sherlock still running as fast as his legs will let him, splutters down the phone, 

"Mycroft!"

"Sherlock what's wrong"

"Dan- nigh"

"I'm coming where are you?" 

"Run- pall - clo" 

Mycroft rips open his door still in his pajamas. Looking for his younger brother. 

"Mycie" 

He listens to the sound of Sherlock's feet pounding on the floor, his gasps for breath. Greg appears next to him. Sherlock can be seen running towards them. Mycroft hangs up and hands the phone behind for Greg to take as Sherlock collapses into his arms. He pulls him into the house and sits him down. Once he's calm he tells them what happened. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I based the killing off an actual killer. I couldn't think of all the details and I had a serial killer book nearby. If anyone is interested the killer was Peter Kurten, 'The Vampire of Dusseldorf'


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of Soldier without his Detective.   
> I have done a follow up and am posting it at the same time.   
> This is set straight after chapter 13.   
> I really hope you liked the second part!!

The sun pressed down on the team. Even for early December the desert was unbearably hot. John could feel the sweat trickling down his body under his equipment. The gear needed for the patrol and camp amplified the desert sun. He led the team towards the buildings. They found people, but they were too late. The animals had already taken them. The further they travelled the more they found. John could feel the sting in his eye as a bead of sweat fell. Blinking it away he tightened his grip on his gun and moved forward. 

They cleared house after house. Nothing but the remains of an abandoned village. Wasn't like John had expected much from this patrol. The village was partially destroyed. They had reached the centre, where the attacks had focused. They had to be more alert in this area. It was no longer just an empty village, like the earlier parts they walked through. The desolation spread around them. Obscuring their view. Hiding animals and bodies. 

John held up his hand.  _ Something's not right _ . His team all halted behind. Fingers on triggers. Focus directed on anything that looked slightly out of place. He could hear it. He didn't know what it was, but it was something. His eyes dart to the side as Sami comes into view. Eyes still scanning his surrounding area, John breathes out, "Listen." Sami focuses on any and all sounds around. He nods slightly towards a nearby house they had yet to check. John nods back to him and moves forward. Sami falling in line behind. The team follows John as he walks towards the house. 

The house was mainly intact. Only broken windows as an indication that anything was wrong. They take their attack positions. John stands in front of the door. Sami stood with Hancock on the left of the door. Wright, May and Bill on the right. Andrews stood behind John. He would break the door and they would all follow him in. Everyone stood on high alert. John looks towards each side, silently asking if they're ready. With a sharp intake of breath, John kicks open the door. 

Scanning the area, they all pile in. Moving with quick, practised efficiency. They check through the rooms. John stops short. He found the source of the noise. A television was flickering in the corner of the room. The picture alternates between a cartoon and static. He moves forward to switch it off. False alarm. He lets out a sigh of relief. He begins to move through the rest of the house. As he passes Sami he whispers, "Just a tele." With a stiff nod, they both carry on through the house. 

* * *

The rest of their day was quiet. They didn't find anything. No more unidentifiable sounds. No more lost children. They made camp. It had become colder than the days previous. They all huddled close under the stars. The night filled with the sounds of chewing rather than jokes. They shared around the food. Making sure they had enough to last. 

Bill stood and motioned to John, "Need loo." John stood and walked with Bill. They had to go in pairs everywhere they went, as a precaution. John carried his gun as they walked away from the group. He stood watch, facing the opposite direction to Bill. Both still alert, they stood in silence. Bill moves to walk back when John pulls on his arm slightly. He hands over the gun and they switch places. Bill kept lookout, holding John's gun out to the empty night. 

When they returned the team were starting to doze. John looks over his team with a fond expression. He looks towards the stars on the horizon. It was a beautiful, clear night. A cool breeze on his face. His uniform kept him from the chill. He wonders what Sherlock would be doing. His phone was turned off in his pocket in an attempt to keep the battery to text in the morning. His mind still on Sherlock and his eyes on the stars ahead. 

_ Sherlock would probably be at home, drinking a cuppa. Or maybe he's running after some criminal. Has he even eaten yet? Most likely not. Is that star moving? _ It takes less than a second for him to register and shout as he dropped to the ground, "DOWN!" A shot is taken, landing near to where he dropped. The team scrambles to find the attackers in the darkness. They grab their gear and begin shooting towards where the shots were coming from. 

They try moving back to get coverage, bullets flying close. They were shooting blind, but so were the attackers. John began calling the base. Barking orders down the line so they could hear him over the sound. Beside him Andrews fell. "BILL! COVER!" John dropped beside Andrews and began dragging them towards the nearby building. He took some bandage from his pocket and pressed it towards Andrews. It wasn't serious they could cope. John grabbed his gun and moved forward to rejoin his team. 

The bullets flew through the air. They shot back. Aiming at anything that moved. John needed his med bag. He motioned to his team and began moving back towards the camp they had made. He shot as he walked. Crouching low to the floor. He heard a cry from behind. He moved faster. Grabbing his pack and shooting towards the moving star. He made his way back, dropping to where Bill was pulling May away. He thrust some cloth into his hands and gave them cover as they ran for cover. Bill rejoined him. Andrews and May shooting from behind the wall. 

Ahead of him Sami fell as he ran back with the others. Sami falling like a sack of potatoes. John sucked in a breath and dropped all his equipment as he turned to his team. Pushing his pack towards Bill he said, "Cover me!" More shots could be heard over the top. John gave a slight nod to where the backup had arrived. The soldiers from base joined his team as John crouched. He ran towards Sami. Sami looked up towards John. He had been shot in his stomach and his leg. John took hold of him. Lifting him over his shoulder in fireman's lift - or at least the best he could manage while staying close to the ground. He pushed his way past the soldiers and placed Sami on the back of the transport. 

He made his way for Andrews. Lifting them in a full fireman's lift. The soldiers provided him with cover. Another vehicle pulled up close. John kept moving. Running against the incoming soldiers. Not many had joined them, but it was enough. Andrews was placed on the back of the truck, someone else dropped. John ran back into the storm. May could walk. Giving support he led them to Andrews. He ran to the next soldier. Pulling the soldier next to him he shouted over the noise, "TAKE HIM TO THE OTHERS!" He stopped the next soldier "DRIVE BACK THE WOUNDED!" 

The shots kept coming and slowly the newly formed team started to move back towards the vehicles. He heard the wheels skidding as the wounded were taken back towards base. John picked up a gun from the floor and started providing cover for his team to run for the truck. The attackers he could see were blurred. He wiped his eyes, trying to get the sand out of them. His vision still blurred. He shot towards the blurs he knew were the enemy.  _ Must have got most of them, it's getting quieter. _ His left eye went black.  _ Sand! Shitting sand! _ He wipes his eyes again, the noise lessening. His team were retreating. 

"Captain…Watson... John!" The words were quiet. Slurred.  _ Someone is calling. They must be hurt. _ The gun slips from his finger as his vision spots even further. The voices drowned out. He falls into a pair of arms and can feel himself being dragged. He tries to call out. The words passing his lips in barely audible gasps, contrasting the screaming in his mind, "Sher-"


End file.
